


Progression

by Corellian_Angel



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, BAMF Leia Organa, Canon couple, Dom/sub, Dominant Leia Organa, Don't worry they never leave the bed in this one, F/M, First Times, Han Solo is an equally bad mess, Have I mentioned there is no plot?, Implied Anal Penetration, Leia is a mess, Light Bondage, Movie: Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, PTSD, Past Rape/Non-con, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Smut, Soooo much angst, Spanking, Star Wars: Leia Princess of Alderaan References, Trip to Bespin (Star Wars), dom!leia, han/leia - Freeform, seriously there is no plot, sub!han
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:27:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28646787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corellian_Angel/pseuds/Corellian_Angel
Summary: Progression - the process of developing or moving gradually towards a more advanced state.Leia had urges, fantasies and desires. She'd never understood what it meant to act on those, until she was stuck on a scrapheap of a freighter with Han Solo for more than a month.
Relationships: Leia Organa/Han Solo
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14
Collections: Hanleia Holiday Exchange 2020





	Progression

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hanorganaas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanorganaas/gifts).



> A/N: Don’t own it. But wish I did. Thanks George and Disney.
> 
> Warning: NSFW Adult Content! Explicit sexual themes. Mentions of assault and torture. Implied anal penetration. Proceed no further if you are not of legal age. ^That’s the legal bit ^
> 
> I would like to reach out and give a great big ginormous hug to my beta Gillanna47. She’s willing to suffer through my god-awful drafts and is key to any of the good structure in them. And FFS I didn’t know I was that addicted to Oxford commas either. Any subsequent mistakes are my own.
> 
> This was written as part of the 2020 HanLeia Holiday Exchange on Tumblr for Hanorganaas. She writes and enjoys fics about dom!Leia and I don’t blame her. This was actually a little outside of my wheelhouse, but eventually became a blast to write. Sorry, there’s no plot, but we have more than enough angst to make up for it. Soooo…. Happy Holidays to Hanorganaas and all the participants in the exchange, and to you the readers too!
> 
> Timeline: 3ABY Star Wars - The Empire Strikes Back - The Falcon’s long journey from Hoth to Bespin - Millennium Falcon interior.

* * *

**Progression**

* * *

“Do you want this?” Leia asked Han, her hand slid up the sizable smuggler’s forearm to catch his wrist in an iron grasp, pressing it deep into the mattress. 

Han nodded and squirmed eagerly. His naked form indicated he most certainly did. 

“Tell me again.” Leia demanded with sultry intent. She enjoyed seeing him like this. Helpless, but only because she wanted him to be. And only because he enjoyed entertaining her fantasies. He allowed her to experience this kind of adventure, something she had never allowed herself to do with anyone else.

Leia never really knew when the fascination with dominance crept in. Her curiosity about such things had always been tempered by the frank and often very _uncomfortable_ discussions about sexuality she’d endured from her tutors and aunts. And what they worried about was hardly what Leia had in mind. “Improper urges” they would have called the thoughts she entertained. In retrospect, she realized their visible discomfort and hesitance was born of wanting to protect the virtue of their young charge. After all, a Princess was by all common tradition expected to be wise of mind and innocent of body.

Leia’s first romantic kisses of youth had been sweet, sloppy and fruitless, stolen in the shadows of a butler’s pantry or in the dappled mosaic of sunlight under the alley of trees lining the path to her mother Breha’s - the Queen’s Gardens. Sweet nothings shared with sons and daughters of visiting diplomats, or fellow students and the occasional young servant. Yet the young princess’s heart rarely stirred, and usually, Leia was only left with disappointment. Until one night, that evening’s companion passed her more than a taste of that night’s Royal Fete dinner.

At sixteen Leia fell for Kier. As perfect a match as she’d ever known up until that point. A true pacifist son of Alderaan, met by chance at the Apprentice Legislature, held off-world. Kier had been her first. They had been so innocent. Both quickly became enveloped in the tender flame of youth and desire. Though Leia had felt safe with Kier, and perhaps she even entertained one or two daydreams of a more permanent attachment, she’d never mustered the courage to ask him about indulging in more adventurous sexual desires. Ultimately none of that would matter as he would lay dying in her arms - an unintended civilian casualty of her and her parents’ role within the Rebel Alliance against the Empire. 

Leia knew that though she would continue to fight the Empire, she would always be haunted by the death of Kier. His blood would forever stain her pale hands. She would carry on with the battle for the Light, continuing too with her destiny to ascend the throne of Alderaan– but her thoughts of romance withered under the weight of her loss. She would grace the arm of a few more diplomatic companions, more often as a social duty rather than any real desire for romantic attachment _._ She had her family, duty, and career. If love found Leia again, she assumed it would be somewhere in the middle of an arranged marriage, if she was ever so fortunate.

Then her world fell apart again. She was captured carrying plans for the Empire’s Death Star super-weapon. The crew of her ship was slaughtered and Leia taken prisoner. Days of terrible, terrible invasive torture followed. Soldiers would beat and violate her body, and Darth Vader beat at and violated her mind. Droids injected truth serums and low-level neuro-toxins to weaken her resolve. Physically and mentally, she would irrecoverably be scarred. But it seemed the harder they tried, the more stubborn she became. She knew something they did not, she would never divulge the location of the plans or their base.

A few days in, in the morning, they cleaned her up, slapped on make-up and her freshly laundered dress, packed bacta bandages over her visible wounds and hauled her to the bridge. Then Vader made Leia watch as they blew her homeworld to atoms.

In that moment she’d lost her home, her family, her career and nearly every single friend she had in the universe. The Empire had taken it all – _everything._

After all that drama, tragedy and trauma, how in the names of all the Goddesses could she _ever_ recover enough to expose her heart again. To anyone! No, she resolved to have no one, too frightened of having to bear the loss of another that she loved. She would push back at those that would endeavour to unveil the young woman from beneath the heavily armoured exterior of The Last Princess of Alderaan.

And damn it all, only a mere day after Alderaan’s destruction, she met _him._

Not the sweet blonde farmboy that barged into her cell on the Death Star and proudly proclaimed he was there to rescue her. No, it was the tall, lithe, dark-haired Corellian mercenary in the hall, embroiled in a standoff with stormtroopers that were blocking their only route to escape. He would pop off shots with his stolen blaster - dropping three troopers in a row - then swing to meet her criticism and barbs about the bungled operation with equal wit and ease. In all her life, no one had spoken to her thusly. No one had dared. Their first meeting had, admittedly, not gone well. A blaster firefight, prison bust, wading in garbage and _absolutely no kriffing plan_ – that did not make for the most cordial of introductions. 

Neither did Han Solo’s smart-ass smuggler’s mouth.

And neither did Leia’s for that matter– 

They escaped. And not without significant loss. The last of the Jedi Knights, General Obi-Wan Kenobi would give his life for them to escape aboard the wreck of a ship that the smuggler captained. At that point she would have had time to breathe, maybe to weep for her homeworld. But no, she couldn’t, there was still the Death Star itself to be rid of. 

The farmboy - Luke - exploited the flaw in the Death Star plans, making an impossible shot with his very first experience in a snub fighter. But it never would have happened if that damned Corellian smuggler hadn't shown up out of nowhere with his claptrap ship to save the younger man from the three fighters hot on Luke’s tail, including Darth Vader’s own.

They’d taken down the Death Star, blowing it to dust. The farmboy became a hero and respected Commander in the Rebellion. The smuggler, well… Han swore off joining her Rebellion. He shunned the limelight and offers of leadership and duty, constantly citing his freedom. He remained though, cursing up and down about how Luke and Leia were _insane_ \- risking their lives for the Rebels’ lost cause. Yet he was always there to support them - grousing it was only for the meagre amount of money the Rebellion offered. 

As it turned out, the man that was the thief, rogue, smuggler, pirate and scoundrel called Han Solo was often an absolutely gods-awful, _terrible_ liar. 

But then again, so was she, pretending not to care about whether he left or stayed - all the while wishing she could wrap herself into the warm circle of his embrace. 

It would take her three long, war-weary years to figure it out. That Han remained and risked life and limb, and his beloved ship not for her cause, but for _her_. Three years of snarking, teasing, life-and-death missions and arguments, eventually resulted in a deep, abiding friendship. She’d tried so hard to guard her heart so closely in that time, refusing to admit what had truly occurred - that maybe, just maybe - she was in love with the man. Probably right from their very messy start. Before the events on the Death Star, Leia’s passions extended to the halls of the senate chamber - where she had strode upon ancient polished floors and boldly challenged the assembled leaders of trillions to stand and do what was moral and right. Han would never want, nor could he comprehend such a life. Yet the universe had shifted. The street-raised smuggler now had led troops on the front lines. Leia had gone from sleeping on feathered beds in palaces to planning raids while shivering on spindly cots in unheated barracks. She had an army to command, a war to resolve, but this time with an infuriating, gorgeous scoundrel that held fast by her side. She found they fought better together. Their actions in battle became fluid, interlocked in a natural push and pull of quips, commands and acts of courage amidst torrents of Imperial blaster-fire. Her fellow Rebel leader Senator Mon Mothma had noted it from the earliest missions Han and Leia had playfully bickered their way through. Even Generals Reeikan and Syndulla had placed wagers on Han and Leia in an inevitable betting pool that seemed to infiltrate into every Rebel rank - from private to admiral, to cook to pilot. 

_Everyone_ knew.

The princess and the smuggler had fallen for each other– _hard_. And fools that they both were, they were the last to know.

Leia felt it was _more_ than that. She had always had innate _talents_ that she’d been taught to suppress as a child. The thoughts and emotions of others around her had always been a carefully suppressed background noise, yet more and more often Han’s errant thoughts came through clarion-call clear. It was no longer their natural synchronicity, it was the glimpses of memory and intent when her hand clasped his arm in a jointly unguarded moment, or the rush of fierce protectiveness that enveloped her as firmly as Han’s arms when Leia awoke screaming and thrashing from her nightmares while on missions. She could no longer ignore it. She needed him _now_ or out of her system and gone, as he’d always threatened to do when she got too bitter and angry, snapping at him about his mercenary _bullshit._ On Hoth, she’d nearly outright had enough of him, torn as she was between outrage and relief that he was leaving to pay off his crimelord ex-employer.

_Oh_ ...but then he had to drag her out of the Rebel command center with Darth Vader hot on their heels. Shielding her with his own body as the base’s tunnels collapsed around them during their escape. It didn’t help that his blasted ship had been in one of her infernal “moods” again, and as a result, they had _months_ of a slow crawl on backup drives ahead of them.

Oh...but… _oh_ , then there was that stolen kiss too. She could have divested Han of the Solo jewels right then and there in the engineering bay. She could have righteously slapped him like some cliched holo-film actress. She could have reacted any number of ways to a bountied criminal laying hands (and lips– _be honest, Leia_ ) on the heir to the ancient Royal House of Alderaan. Instead, she had grabbed his hair and kissed him right back. _That_ ended up starting it all. Culminating in her eventually dragging him by the buckle of his ridiculous low-slung gunbelt to the captain’s bunk.

(It had been a _very_ good kiss.)

On this long crawl to Bespin, where minor maintenance was the only productive task available, Leia quickly realized she had the relative privacy and free-time to get her primitive desire for Han out of her system. Her initial forays with the smuggler had been careful yet passionate encounters. Han had been overwhelmingly gentle with her. His understanding of what Leia had suffered at the hands of the Empire, guided his questions and actions with her from the start. That consideration and restraint emboldened the trust Leia had in him. Yet there was something else beneath the surface, she could see it as the nearly feral glint in his eyes when she teased him. With any other being such a look would have set her fight or flight instinct alarms ringing. Only with Han, Leia now welcomed that look, letting it pierce her and set her core aflame with a similar primeval hunger.

Leia couldn’t seem to get enough of him either. It wasn’t that she was unsatisfied, it was that she was _insatiable_ . She wanted _more_ –to crawl over the big rogue, mount him and make him _beg._

Which led into this _other_ thing. A type of darkness – a _dominance._

Leia found that over a short amount of time, her kisses at Han’s jawline became small nips and bites. She would pull hard on the thick scruff of Han’s hair, encouraging his tongue’s talented ministrations between her thighs. Or she would both gently kiss the peak of his larynx and later graze it raw with her teeth. There would be light bite-marks on the Corellian’s muscular shoulders and biceps, only because Leia managed to avoid the urge to actually clamp down. In her throes, Leia scratched red welts into Han’s back, and the shallow half-moon circle imprints of her nails tracked up and down his thighs and shoulders. Leia now growled and demanded, and Han answered enthusiastically - yet holding back, still asking before trying something new. At times his sweet consideration brought her close to tears (as certainly as his fingers and tongue could), and honestly, she could have never fathomed so much respect from such a rough man. But the truth was Leia wanted more. _More_. More from him. In ways that she suspected would make even the universe-weary smuggler blush.

And to her mind, they had done _quite a bit_ of experimentation already. Han would quirk his eyebrow at her in an intrigued arch when she suggested as such, the gesture informing her that she yet had other doors to open. To her personal delight, Leia was becoming acutely aware that there seemed to be few borders for Han’s talents and experience. She would end up pushing at what she figured what his boundaries were, only to find they stretched beyond and into her wilder fantasies.

Leia tried to restrain the smuggler - playfully at first. It took a special level of trust in one’s partner to allow, and Han was a man who had lived life outside the law since early childhood. He was a creature that would not be easily be caged. His submission was the first milestone he had with her, and they had both nearly wept after. As they progressed, he submitted to be loosely bound, until it peaked one afternoon in the locked privacy of the Falcon’s cockpit, with Leia using Han’s gunbelts to bind him as she rode him in the captain’s chair. That torment had rendered the smuggler gibbering and delirious, his usual baritone growl reduced to breathy pleas. Leia knew from the raw vulnerability in Han’s eyes, and the tremors of excitement that radiated off his body that he was fully into whatever she had planned. His trust in her was complete. Leia was free to explore and experience. She surprised both Han and herself with her boldness and desires.

All leading her to fulfill one of her most secret fantasies. It had finally come to this.

Leia leaned in close to Han, shifting her body above his as she straddled his torso. Her breath lit hot upon the bronze crest of his shoulder, as she murmured. 

“Do you want this?” she asked again.

A shiver ran along the lean length of the smuggler’s body. Han twisted his wrist in Leia’s firm grip, experimenting. He eventually relaxed as he met her gaze with amusement. He jutted his scarred chin out at her in challenge. The grin that twisted those generous lips and then broke into a brilliant smile made Leia’s heart stutter.

“Think you can tame me, Princess? I don’t think so.”

Leia shifted her grip and slid her fingers to entangle with Han’s. She pressed his knuckles into the padded bulkhead above his head and sought the other that traced circles on the back of her hip. Han chuckled under his breath as his free hand deftly avoided hers and gripped tightly at the round of her buttock, pressing her against him. Callused fingers that had scraped deliciously across her skin in a gentle massage, now dug possessively into Leia’s flesh. They inched inward, and Leia knew she would be lost if he got his hands on her... _there_.

It was too late. “ _Oh…”_ Leia’s voice sounded far away to her. “Oh, my gods.”

“Yeah, you like that there. Huh, your Highness?” Han’s sensual tone rumbled through their chests. 

The contact caused Leia to collapse on top of him, her nerve endings lit. She’d hesitated too long, he’d taken over and the tables were about to quickly turn. The rough pad of his thumb circled Leia’s opening, and the rest of Han’s fingers stroked at her folds. A twist of Han’s wrist and a finger went in to curl inside of her, insistent and merciless. Leia’s plan would fall to pieces as surely as she would if Han was left to it. The hands that could rewire a starship’s engineering console, or wield a blaster with deadly aim, also had the ability to draw out the most exquisite sensations from Leia’s flesh. A gasp escaped her as Han changed his angle. The man had no mercy. She could give in to him. She could. 

( _Gods_ , he was good)

But…Surrendering was definitely not Leia’s style.

“No,” Leia finally caught the wrist attached to the hand that threatened to send her over the edge. She pushed upright from him, holding it away from their entangled bodies. Han’s eyebrows raised in apologetic concern, thinking he had gone too far.

“No,” Leia repeated. More firmly she added, “Rules: we agreed it was my turn.”

The smuggler’s worried expression dissolved into sly mischievousness. Hazel eyes narrowed, glittering with erotic promise. 

“Don’t like to play by the rules, Sweetheart.” Han snapped his teeth at her playfully. The tanned washboard of Han’s abdominals tightened as he surged upright to nuzzle that one particularly sensitive spot between Leia’s shoulder and neck. “C’mere.”

Chin raised, Leia allowed him momentary access. She moaned shamelessly. They’d become so good at this, so familiar with each other, that they could send one or both into sheer ecstasy by their kisses alone. 

It was a strategic mistake. Captivated by the pleasure from his lips, Leia had released Han’s hands. Lightning fast, they wrapped around to clasp at her lower and upper back, raising Leia’s body up so Han could have at her rib cage and breasts.

Oh, what would he be if he actually _obeyed_. Han was always a challenge. Leia could easily protest, but the game was set. This friendly resistance was but part of a grander scheme. If he didn’t play like this they wouldn’t have nearly as much fun.

Han was at Leia’s navel. A cooling trail of moisture led the path down to her stomach. Her fingers dug into Han’s thick mane as he raised her up onto her knees, mouth hot upon her. Leia took the opportunity to jump off of him, sliding off Han’s lap with cat-like ease. She swung to his side and met Han’s bewildered and disappointed gaze with a predatory one.

“ _My_ turn.” Leia emphasized with an alto snarl. She reached into a container she had prepared under the bunk. Han’s eyes widened when she did – interest, excitement and not a little fear lurked there. His throat bobbed nervously as he saw what she had.

“Where did that come from?” his voice edged a little higher than normal.

Leia smiled at him slyly. “I’ve always had it. Or…” she corrected, “Shall I say that it’s been in my onboard personal care kit here for the last couple of years.”

A low whistle passed Han’s lips. He bit his lower lip, “That’s been on _my_ ship for all that time?” Leia nodded mutely in response. Han’s breath trembled as he whispered incredulously, “Kriffin’ hell woman! And that’s yours?”

Leia returned Han’s gawp with a cool stare.

“And it’s been here, the _whole time?”_ he wheezed. “And you… you… like… you used it here?! On yourself?” he pointed into the mattress.

Leia couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. 

Han pawed at his hair, “You did! You used that on my ship!” He straightened, “If I’d have known… If…”

“It would have been hyper-fuel for your fantasies, I’m sure.” Leia purred. Han nodded enthusiastically, eyes as wide as moons.

“Fuck...Yeah. Will be now. For sure.”

She couldn’t help the grin that swept across her features in answer. Reaching into the box once more, she came up with the lubricant and ribbons for his hands. Han squeaked and shuffled back against the headboard. His chest heaved visibly in the cabin’s dim light.

“Do you still want to do it?” Leia asked when it seemed he’d been struck dumb.

Han swallowed a number of times before he managed to stumble over an answer, “Uh… Yeah. Though I’ve… I’ve never– Damn, didn’t expect you to be this _ready!”_

Leia tried not to let her impending disappointment show. She waited on her heels. This was not quite the reaction she’d expected. 

“You said you’d done it before. We discussed this. That you’d–“

Han blinked, then leapt forward to place a silencing finger on her lips. “Yes! And no. Maybe. Look... Okay, listen.” He removed his hand and explained shyly. “Look. I know I never talk about this, but at times I had it really rough. I had to do _things_ to be able to eat sometimes. It’s not that I’ve never _done_ it. It’s that I’ve never done it willingly for pleasure. _”_ He bent lower to meet her eyes with heart-rending sincerity. “I do want this, Leia. Believe me, I do. I love the fact you are so commanding and eager. Like you before, I need a bit of time to warm up to the idea.”

_Oh…_. Leia’s heart sank. She’d never thought of that. It made sense in retrospect, Han had had his own struggles before her. She’d not thought to consider he might have been abused in such a way.

She… They... both had so much kriffing _trauma_. 

Damn it.

Seeing her disheartened reaction to his admission, Han scrambled to recover the situation. “Hey now. But I want you to know that I’m totally full in with this with you. I’m so sorry I wasn’t totally clear.” He reached to cup her cheeks. “If this is your fetish, I want to experience it with you. At least once. Yeah, I’m a little nervous… So what? I haven’t regretted anything we’ve done so far.” He looked at her in askance, “Have you?”

A flare of desire shot through her as Leia recalled the events of the last few weeks. Their progression of interactions had become a sort of healing balm for her. She no longer jumped at a simple touch, nor quailed at the thought of a man’s intent. This… Leia looked at the objects she held. This could be healing for him too.

“I have no regrets with you.” Leia’s eyes brimmed, and Han’s softened with understanding. She touched his cheekbone, “None. And I don't want you to have any either.”

“Then,” Han began, he held his arms out. “Let’s do it.”

Tears formed and she moved quickly to swipe them away with the back of her wrist. She gathered her courage while taking in his hesitant, yet pleading look. “Okay hotshot.” Han smirked at that. 

She looped one ribbon around a nearby anchor point on the bunk’s wall and his right wrist before lightly smacking his ass. 

He flinched unsure when Leia started to wrap the second ribbon around his other wrist. She caught his eye an instant before saying “I’ll allow you to have one arm free... _If you behave._ ” 

Han nodded nervously.

“Turn around.” She commanded.

Han took a couple of deep inhales while looking her up and down. Leia sensed that he was committing this moment to memory.

He licked his lips, “Yeah.” And didn’t move. Alright. 

The next spank echoed through the cabin and Han yelped. He scrambled to obey and Leia slid up behind him to press herself against the lean heat of his body. She traced the hard lines of his torso, biceps, and ass. This would be his gift to her – one she would never forget.

“You’ve been bad.” Leia’s mouth brushed at the curl of his ear.

A loud gulp, “Yeah… yeah I have.” 

The game was on.

She pressed her breasts against his back, her left hand travelled from the sharp point of Han’s hip bone down front to his groin. The imposing smuggler made a helpless sound. Leia clenched his butt from behind and let her hand grip him from the front. He was huge and hard, a single drop at the tip indicating his excitement. He murmured something under his breath. She ground against him.

“I didn’t quite hear that. Tell me again.”

“I-, I’m yours.” Han was breathless. He grunted as Leia tugged on him, running her fingers up and down the thick ridge of his shaft. 

Leia smacked his ass again. Then she reached for the apparatus at the edge of the mattress. She briefly broke her hold on him to slather lube over the device’s rounded silicon head.

“Again, Flyboy.” Leia soothed his rapid breathing with a line of kisses on Han’s shoulder blade. She tightened her grip on his hip, and positioned herself behind him. His heartbeat was racing. His flesh tasted salty and hot, spiced with raw need.

“I’m yours.” Han rasped. 

“Again.” Leia scraped her teeth against the taut muscle of his back. Han whimpered.

“Yours. Gods Leia, you drive me wild when you’re like this.”

Encouraged, she slid it into him, lubricant easing the way. Han shuddered and tossed his head back with a loud groan.

“Yours, your Worship. Now. Forever.” Han grunted out the syllables with each of Leia’s thrusts. “More. Please.”

She dragged at his hair and murmured into his spine.“Mine, forever.”

  
  
  


-end-


End file.
